


Catharsis

by CeNedraRiva



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Caring Dean, Castiel Has Issues, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues, Castiel Needs a Hug, Coda, Episode: s11e21 All In The Family, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Healing, M/M, Stop Hurting Cas 2k16
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6893749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeNedraRiva/pseuds/CeNedraRiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel was freed from Lucifer, he didn't realise immediately. Months in isolation within hallucinations could make it difficult to spot reality. Truthfully, he'd never expected to see it again.<br/>What he didn't understand was the reason Dean felt he had to act so softly. It wasn't how Dean treated any of his friends, let alone expendable allies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raw

Castiel found his eyes opening. He squinted against the light, eyes watering, as the room came into focus. The Bunker, of course. Although it seemed like he’d made his way to the library now, instead of the simulacra of the kitchen he’d been spending his time in. Castiel wondered for a second why his sanctuary had changed appearance, before disregarding it. Lucifer had probably gotten bored and decided to torture him again.

Castiel glanced around the room, eyes skipping over the shapes of Dean and Sam in search of a tv or radio. Maybe Lucifer would leave him with enough awareness to tune into Dean’s prayers again.

“Cas!”

Castiel smiled to himself, still searching. Lucifer had really outdone himself with this illusion. He could almost feel the prayer and longing underlying Dean’s cry.

Although, something felt different this time. It was all more solid. The air felt charged, atomic, swirling in a way it hadn’t since he’d last been on Earth. Alive. Castiel frowned, examining his hands. He could feel it, the blood rushing through his flesh, cells respiring, the constant hum of life. His body, his Grace curling under his skin. This was – Lucifer couldn’t manufacture an illusion that could fool his Grace.

Castiel felt his breathing quicken, eyes finding Dean. Familiar, worn, brilliant Dean, soul shifting with longing and agitation. Another thing Lucifer could never fabricate. This was real. He was no longer Lucifer’s vessel.

“Dean?”

The man swallowed, before lurching forward. Castiel blinked, arms by his side as Dean’s circled him, dragging him into a rough embrace. His fingers twitched, skin burning as sensation returned, like coming out of the cold. Dean’s breath against his neck sent something skittering down his spine, and Castiel found his hands were clutching at Dean’s back.

“Cas, thank God, Cas,” his voice murmured beside Castiel’s ears. “Cas.” Dean’s arms tightened, and Castiel grunted. His entire body ached, the beginnings of a migraine throbbing behind his eyes. Castiel shuddered, relaxing into Dean’s hold despite the pain. He had missed this, even if it wouldn’t last.

“Dean,” he breathed, the word grating against his throat. “Did it work? Did Lucifer win?”

“Lucifer? No, he couldn’t beat her.”

Castiel’s heart sank. If an archangel couldn’t defeat Amara, what could a half-human seraph do? The entire force of heaven hadn’t been powerful enough to smite the Darkness.

“Why did he relinquish my vessel?” Castiel couldn’t imagine Lucifer would simply have given up or moved on, even if he had destroyed the Darkness. Which could only mean he was forced out, or given a better option. Castiel hoped it was the latter, though the only stronger vessel he knew of was Sam. They couldn’t afford to lose Lucifer’s power. He was still the best chance they had.

“We exorcised him. Chuck did, I mean.”

Castiel paused.

“Chuck? The prophet?”

“Yeah, long story, not important.”

It seemed like something important, but Castiel got the feeling Dean wasn’t going to explain any time soon. Slowly, he drew away from Dean until they could see each other. Dean’s eyes were red, puffy, but his expression was grim. Castiel felt himself shrink before him.

“Cas, dude, why the fuck would you say yes to him?”

Castiel winced beneath Dean’s gaze, eyes dropping to the floor. Dean disapproved of his choice. Of course he did.

“You and Sam have already defeated Lucifer before, I knew you were capable of doing it again. Letting him free seemed like a small price to pay.”

“What – you think –” Dean spluttered. “That isn’t what this is about!”

Castiel squinted up at Dean, bemused.

“Why else would you be upset?”

Dean seemed to be at a loss for words. Sam stepped forwards, stopping besides him.

“You, Cas. We’re upset because we lost you.” Sam’s words were slow, cautious, as if he was explaining the concept to a child. Castiel turned to regard him.

“Why would that upset you? Lucifer is much more powerful than I, and far more skilled.” Castiel managed a half-smile, turning to face Dean again. “If anything, it’s a step up, having an archangel on your team. Right?”

His smile faded. Dean didn’t look like he agreed. Something within him deflated at the realisation. He really had made the wrong choice. Powerful or not, Dean hated Lucifer and it had always been a long shot that the devil would co-operate with them. Another mistake to make up for.

Dean looked angry.

“What the hell kind of crap is that, Cas!”

“Dean-”

“No, Sam! What kind of bullshit is this? Cas? You’re more than just your powers, Cas. I don’t give a flying fuck that Lucifer is more powerful than you! He’s a dick. You’re one of us, Cas! You’re family! Don’t you know that?”

Castiel didn’t know that. It hardly sounded true. Yes, he was an ally to the brothers, but he wasn’t part of the family, not after his betrayals. Most of the time, he was merely a drain on their resources. Castiel turned to Sam, and back to Dean. They both appeared serious, passionate. Castiel sighed around the lump in his throat, closing his eyes for a second to compose himself. His head was throbbing.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Dean, but I would prefer it if you didn’t lie to me. It hurts to hear.” Blinking back tears, he regarded the man before him. “Where is Lucifer? If Amara is yet to be defeated, he would still make a strong ally.”

“Cas…”

Dean’s voice sounded strangled. Castiel frowned.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

“Am I alright – Cas,” Dean gave a bark of a laugh, watery and harsh. He reached forwards to grasp Castiel’s jaw in one hand, the other resting on his shoulder. His thumb brushed away an errant tear. “Cas, you’re family. We need you, not your angel powers or your vessel. I need you, Castiel, the person. We’re family.”

Lies. Sweet, beautiful lies. Dean was always such a kind individual, Castiel could almost believe he was speaking the truth. But he knew it wasn’t. Castiel’s betrayals were too large, his mistakes too damning. As an ally, he was nearly worthless, practically useless anymore. He would be glad if his sacrifice could be of some use to the brothers.

Lucifer was probably still nearby. If he hadn’t found a new vessel, then he could always offer himself again. Of course he would explain his actions to Dean beforehand this time, in case he still disapproved. He didn’t want to make another mistake.

“Dean, I am tired. Perhaps I could rest for a while?”

Dean frowned, looking him up and down. Castiel did his best not to wobble on his feet, as if speaking of his exhaustion aloud gave it power over his body. His eyes felt heavy. Dean stepped forwards, easing one of Castiel’s arms over his shoulder.

“Sure, we’ll talk later, buddy.”

It must have taken only a few minutes to walk back to his old room, but by the time they got there Castiel could barely stand. His head throbbed, and he gave a sigh of relief as they entered the dark room. Dean helped ease him onto the bed, going as far as to remove Castiel’s shoes and coat. His head felt heavy.

“Thank you, Dean.” Already, he could feel himself beginning to drift. Everything hurt. A hand brushed against his forehead, cool skin a balm against the heat of his body.

“Cas, man, you’re really burning up. I think you might be feverish.”

“It is possible.”

From his place on the bed it felt like the room was spinning, slowly in the dark. Cas imagined he could almost see the stars through the walls. Suddenly Dean was close again, a cool cloth pressed against his forehead. He hadn’t even noticed Dean leaving.

“That’s nice. Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem.”

Stars were still spinning across his vision. Idly, he picked out Castor, Pollux, Capella and Betelgeuse. He was hardly able to focus on any one. Even with his eyes closed, he could see them.

“I can see the stars, Dean. Constellations.”

“Uh, sure, Cas. The stars.”

“I think it’s my Grace, reconnecting to the universe. Lucifer is very smothering, his Grace nearly encapsulated my own. I could barely hear you past him.”

“Hear me?”

Castiel hummed, relaxing deeper into the bed. The stars were beginning to fade now, although he was still aware of every one. The spinning, he realised was the motion of the planet, spinning and orbiting through space.

“Your prayers. Nothing specific really, no words, just vague longing. It felt nice.”

Dean didn’t speak for a while, and Castiel felt himself creeping closer to sleep. The movements of the cosmos, the dancing of atoms through the air, the buzzing of living cells – he’d forgotten how soothing they were, how ubiquitous. The way matter sang, the constant beautiful cacophony of existence. That was, perhaps, the cruellest part of Lucifer’s torment, to isolate him from it all.

“Cas, you still awake?”

“Mhmm, barely. The universe is so noisy, Dean. Like a lullaby.”

“Noisy like a lullaby?”

“Wish you could hear it. It’s beautiful.”

“Probably wouldn’t appreciate it as much as you.”

Dean chuckled, and a moment later Castiel felt a hand card through his hair. Just once, quick, but it was a nice sensation.  He wished Dean would do it again.

“Cas, you really are important to us, you know. You are family.”

Castiel huffed, unable to open his eyes. He yawned.

“I wouldn’t have said yes if you truly thought we were family, Dean. I wouldn’t hurt you like that, not after Sam and the Cage.”

He heard Dean’s breath catch.

“Then why did you?”

Castiel was silent, gathering the energy to speak again. Fatigue clung to his skin like tar, heavy and sticky.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

Castiel was sure Dean spoke once more, but he didn’t hear anything more.


	2. Cauterise

Castiel shifted, uncomfortable on the firm library chairs. Lucifer had been gone nearly two weeks now, wherever Chuck had sent him, and Castiel was still getting used to his body again. Being able to see, to feel textures and pressure, to smell and hear and taste was all rather overwhelming. Even his Grace still felt raw. It was endlessly frustrating.

Two days ago he’d spent over an hour simply tracing the texture of woodgrain on the table, completely immersed in the beauty of it.  On Monday, he’d eaten a dozen apples in one sitting, because despite the fact that they still tasted strongly of the molecular structure that made up the fruit, even that taste was better than being unable to taste.

The worst, perhaps, was his skin. Never before had it felt this sensitive, like sunburn. Everything was too coarse against it, even the soft cotton shirts Dean had lent him. Or else too hot, or too cold, or itchy. He felt bruised.

Dean.

Castiel’s eyes found the hunter, sat across from him at the table, buried in textbooks and looking bored out of his life. Dean had been treating him differently. Softly, as if he was afraid Castiel might break. Constantly checking on him, caring for him, as if the lies were true and they really were family.

Dean caught him staring, and gave a smile. Castiel frowned, head tilted to one side. Why did Dean continue to lie to him? He’d healed, for the most part. The fever had worn off, as well as the hyperawareness of the universe, even if he was still getting lost in details. After a brief discussion Dean had declared that he was to never say yes to an angel again. There was no need for the lie.

“Cas, you still with us?” Dean’s voice was cautious, soft. Castiel nodded, still frowning, still staring. He saw Sam glance up in his periphery, watching them, before returning to his book a minute later.

“Got anything to say?” Castiel shook his head, and Dean blinked, glancing away. Castiel watched the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Eyes trailing back up, he noted the way Dean’s blush brought out his freckles. “Just staring, then.”

Castiel thought that hardly needed answering. Dean turned back to face him, green eyes dark in the dull lighting.

Dean was very beautiful. Castiel had always thought so, but it seemed like the absence during his time as Lucifer’s vessel had only increased his appreciation. Vanity, perhaps, at the beauty of his own work. Castiel had crafted every cell of Dean’s body from nearly nothing, years ago. His most beautiful, most precious piece of artwork, the vessel for Dean’s soul to occupy. Although, it was merely an imitation, a restoration of what already was. Dean had always been beautiful.

Castiel blinked, realising he must have lost time again. Sam was gone, books cleared, and Dean had a new cup of coffee. Looking down, he found a cup in front of himself. It was lukewarm.

“You alright, Cas?” Dean’s voice was still soft. It was irritating, somehow.

Castiel nodded, staring into the cup.

“You want to talk, I’ll listen.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“S’no problem.” Castiel could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “You’re family.”

The lie, again. Castiel frowned, exasperated. Dean spoke it often, that lie. Casually, slipping it into conversation whenever he could as if speaking it over and over would make it true. He wished it was true.

Castiel realised he was gritting his teeth. He flexed his jaw.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

It took a second before Castiel realised he’d spoken aloud, but he still wanted to know. Looking up, he caught Dean’s gaze, his expression serious. Dean looked a little surprised, lips parted.

“Doing what?”

The same soft voice.

“Lying to me,” Castiel growled.

A spark of irritation caught in Dean’s gaze, but he smothered it a moment later.

“I’m not lying to you, Cas.”

If anything, his voice was softer.

“Yes. You are.” He was gritting his teeth again. Castiel realised his hands were in tight fists.

“Cas, you are a part of this family. That is the truth, and I will repeat it every day for the rest of our lives until you believe me.”

That fucking voice.

Castiel was across the table, slamming into Dean. His chair rocked back, legs splintering, and they were both sprawled on the floor. Castiel twisted, launching himself back to Dean, who rolled out of the way. Castiel followed.

“Stop lying!”

Castiel caught Dean’s shirt hauling himself to pin Dean.

“It isn’t a lie!”

Dean writhed beneath him, trying to unbalance him. Castiel shifted with him, moving to straddle his chest.

“Stop! Lying!”

He shook Dean’s shoulders roughly. Dean pushed half-heartedly at his arms.

“You’re family, Cas.”

Castiel snarled, and a second later he had punched Dean across the face. Castiel froze, staring, even as Dean turned back to face him. He wasn’t struggling.

Castiel swallowed. His ears were ringing.

“Fight back.” The words were quiet in the large room.

“No.”

“Dean…”

“I’m not fighting you, Castiel.”

One hand snatched at Dean’s hair, twisting his head to one side. Dean allowed it, staring up at Castiel with the same grating softness as before.

“Fight back!”

“I won’t!”

“Stop treating me like I’m about to break!”

“Aren’t you?”

Castiel snarled again, staring down at Dean. Dean’s voice was still soft, but his eyes were on fire, defiant. Castiel panted.

“I’m fine.”

Dean snorted.

“Well, that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!”

“Cas, the Devil wore you like a cheap suit for half a year! You spent nearly a month being tortured by a primeval force of destruction, not to mention whatever crappiness that drove you to say yes in the first place! Cas! It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to know your head is not a happy place right now! There is no possible way you’re “fine”.”

Castiel realised he was trembling. He sneered down at Dean, shifting to sit upright.

“I am not going to fight you, Cas. If you don’t believe me when I say we’re family, if you felt like you needed to say yes, that’s on me.”

Castiel stared. He laughed. It sounded like broken glass.

“You self-righteous prick! Don’t you dare make yourself responsible for my actions! I have existed for longer than your species, ape! I didn’t say yes just because two humans didn’t want me as a part of their little family! This is beyond that! Destroying the Darkness is bigger than that!”

“Oh yes? Months, Cas! Months, we spent tracking Lucifer down, looking for a way to save you! Worrying about you! Months, we could have focused on taking down Amara, as a team!”

“Screw you, Dean Winchester! If you chose to misuse your time, that’s no fault of mine! I didn’t want to be saved!”

Pushing himself up, Cas stormed towards the library entrance. He didn’t get more than four steps before Dean grabbed his arm, dragging him back.

“Suicide. You’re talking about suicide.”

“So what if I am?”

“So I don’t want you out of my life, that’s what!”

They were both panting now. Castiel noted the rage in Dean’s face with satisfaction. He wasn’t fragile. He didn’t need to be handled gently, like a child. Dean glared, and Castiel stepped closer.

“And why the hell don’t you? How many mistakes do I need to make before you’ll let me go?”

“I will never let you go!”

“Why not!”

“Because we’re family!”

“Liar!” Castiel growled, ripping his arm free of Dean’s grip, although he didn’t try to leave again. Turning, he paced the width of the room like some large predator. His wings, invisible to Dean, arched high behind his back in agitation. If he could still fly, he would already have blinked away.

He could feel Dean’s gaze on him, heavy with frustration.

“Dean. I am single-handedly responsible for thousands of innocent deaths. I destroyed the wall protecting Sam’s mind. I assisted Metatron and cast the angels out of Heaven.” Castiel paused, voice suddenly rough. “I – how could you-”

“Cas.”

“Dean.” He took a deep breath, released it shuddering. “You can’t be – you say we’re family but you never act like we are. You must be lying.”

Castiel stopped, turning to face Dean properly. Dean bit his lip, visibly holding back from commenting, at least until he had finished his piece. Castiel felt briefly grateful for the courtesy.

“You have to be lying, Dean. I needed your help, Dean, and you turned me away. I –” he swallowed, closing his eyes. “Metatron stole my Grace and threw me to the Earth as a human, with nothing. I was scared, Dean. Alone, lame, deaf and blind. I was being hunted by every other angel who fell.”

Castiel paused, breathing deeply. He could barely comprehend the gravity of his mistake in trusting Metatron, his part in the destruction of Heaven. Hundreds had died that day, the rest scarred and twisted by the fall. Even now, years later, most had barely begun to heal.

“The one person who showed me any kindness was a reaper, Dean, who then proceeded to torture and stab me. And then you arrived, bright and glorious and righteous. I felt safe. And then you sent me away.”

Looking up, Castiel’s eyes found Dean’s. “You keep sending me away, Dean, and leaving me behind. And every time I stop, every time I try and do what you want, you grab me and drag me back to your side. I don’t know what you want. You don’t treat family like this.”

Something in him seemed to collapse as he spoke, and suddenly all Castiel could feel was exhaustion. Stumbling across the room, he righted his chair, settling to hide his face behind his hands. His cheeks felt damp, eyes itchy. Dean was quiet for a minute, before he walked around the table to stop in front of Castiel.

“I guess I have been pretty shitty family to you, Cas.” His voice sounded thick.

 Castiel snorted.

“That would be accurate.”

“So, I guess I better start making up for that.”

Castiel didn’t respond. Dean sighed, moving to kneel in front of him. Rough, calloused hands brushed gently against his cheeks, lifting his face until he could see Dean again. Even kneeling, he still was a little taller than Castiel.

“I am sorry I keep doing that to you, Cas. God, you wouldn’t believe how sorry I am, especially for that time I sent you away. I – I know that was difficult for you like I can’t even imagine.”

Castiel smiled, though it felt a little watery.

“I don’t think you could truly appreciate it if you’ve never had Grace.”

Dean grimaced.

“I am sorry, Cas.”

“I know.”

“And all that stuff, you know we forgave you for that ages ago, right? Hell, most of it wasn’t even your fault.”

Castiel chuckled, leaning more heavily into Dean’s hands.

“That is a very generous assessment, Dean, if inaccurate. Thank you. I know you’ve forgiven me.”

“Not yourself, though. Right?”

Castiel didn’t answer.

“Cas,” Dean sighed, leaning forwards until their foreheads touched. Castiel reached forwards to grip his left shoulder. “Try, please? I know I’m not the best example for any of that self-loving crap, but you have to let go of that guilt. Let it go, or move past it, or it weighs on you. Makes you do stupid things like selling your soul or taking the Mark of Cain.”

Another chuckle. Castiel took a deep breath, drawing in Dean’s scent, a mix of leather and motor oil, cheap beer and sweat. His Grace swirled around them drawing Dean’s soul up beneath his skin. He breathed out.

“I’ll try, Dean.”

“We are family, you know. I swear, I have been just as shitty to Sam before. Bobby and Charlie too, before they…You could probably start a club.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“C’mere,” and suddenly Dean was pushing closer, arms sliding behind Castiel’s back until they were pressed together. Dean tucked his face into Castiel’s neck. A second later, he responded, snaking an arm around Dean, relaxing into his hold. It was a few minutes later before he spoke up again.

“Uh, Cas?”

Castiel felt sluggish, face resting tucked next to Dean’s pulse, but he did try to answer. Dean was probably feeling uncomfortable, kneeling on the wood floor, but Castiel was loathe to give up a rare embrace before he had to. And maybe just a little bitter, too. Dean would live.

“Mhmm?”

“I forget sometimes that you’re new to this and everything. Sam already knows, even when we fight he knows, but I dunno if you do? I mean –” he paused a second to compose himself. “You – you know I love you, right? Like, we both do. Me and Sam. Love you. That’s what makes us family.”

Castiel found himself without words. His chest felt tight, bright like sunlight. Inexplicably, his eyes began to water again. Oh, if he were never to cry again after this day it would be too soon. When he could speak again, he could barely get above a whisper.

“No, I didn’t know that. I mean – I knew we were friends, but I didn’t know – truly? You love me?”

The word tasted like blasphemy against his tongue, all bitter and syrupy and searing hot at the same time like sweet coffee. He could nearly feel the force of Dean’s blush, and then Dean turned to press a kiss against his temple. Castiel’s blood felt thick with stars.

“’course I do. You’re awesome.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. His arms tightened, dragging Dean closer.

“I love you, too, Dean.”

The words flowed past his lips like spring water. Dean’s breath caught, and Castiel thought perhaps he should have said it aloud before too. Had Dean been unsure? Unaware of how highly Castiel valued him? It had proved exceedingly obvious to very other being he had met, including Sam. Including Chuck, although that seemed far less surprising now than when he was merely a prophet.

Perhaps they both needed to speak more freely to each other.

“I have loved you for years, Dean. Beyond my loyalty to Heaven. I thought you were aware, already.”

It took Dean a moment to answer. Castiel could feel his pulse racing.

“I guess I sort-of knew, but–” he cut off, swallowing. His embrace tightened.

“It feels nice to hear aloud, sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. “Um, thanks Cas.”

It was only a few seconds later before Dean grew visibly uncomfortable, pulling back to stand. Bashful, he barely met Castiel’s gaze before turning away, but he was smiling, biting his lip. One hand rubbed the back of his neck, before Dean nodded, turning back.

“You ever need another chick-flick moment like that, you find me. Right? Awkward as hell, but we have ‘em for a reason, I guess.”

“I will. Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re family, man. I really need you around.”

Castiel grinned, feeling infinitely lighter than before. Dean loved him. He was one of Dean’s loved ones. It faded a little as he noticed the mark on Dean’s cheek. Standing, he reached out to examine the injury.

“I hurt you, again.”

Dean let him tilt his head, giving a shrug.

“It’s fine.”

Castiel’s eyes found Dean’s, affectionate, if still a little worried. His soul was glowing softly beneath his skin, singing beneath reverent fingertips. His Grace glided across the wound, encouraging the cells to heal faster.

He still felt bruised, broken. Dean’s apologies couldn’t fix that, nor his confession. But, Castiel did feel better, like he could breathe more easily. Revitalised, he supposed, as if Dean had chased out all the cobwebs and mildew from within his mind. If Dean wanted Castiel to stay, needed him in his life, he could work past his own guilt. Dean could help him to rebuild himself.

They were family. Dean and Sam were his family. Dean loved him. Wanted him. And that was worth everything.


End file.
